


it's like i paid for it (i'm gonna pay for this)

by LadyAlice101



Series: you a dirty little lover [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, and it results in .... shenanigans, and sansa has a thing or two to say to that, theon is silly and makes assumptions about jon and sansas sex life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-14 05:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20187187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAlice101/pseuds/LadyAlice101
Summary: “Alright, tell me everything,” Jon prompts.“Okay, you know how Theon always get’s on our back about how we have boring sex?”Jon purses his lips and looks down her body and over the schoolgirl outfit. “Uh, right?”“Well, I just – I want to prove him wrong! And then, just now, it’s like he – I’m in this outfit, and he still can’t admit we like to play around a bit?”“Sansa,” Jon says slowly, cautiously, “I’m not sure I understand why you care what he thinks.”Sansa sighs loudly again, flopping back onto the bed. “Well I don’t understand either!” she huffs. “But it’s really pissed me off! I mean god Jon, we do some kinky shit – like, remember that time with the –““I don’t know which time you’re about to reference, but I assure you I remember,” Jon interrupts. This time, when his hand lifts, it settles against her upper thigh. “Seriously Sansa, I’m losing my mind over here. You have to put that coat back on if you want me to keep any semblance of chill.”//Or: Theon makes a couple of stupid comments about Jon and Sansa's "vanilla" sex life, and then immediately regrets every decision he's ever made in life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> not a wip, i promise! she's all done and dusted, all SEVEN THOUSAND words of this ridiculousness. 
> 
> please, enjoy, and laugh a lot too
> 
> unbeta'd, as always

Theon has never regretted anything so much in his life. It’s a slow build up to that, of course. He’d never really thought anything of his sly comments towards Jon and Sansa about their sex life; after all, he does it to everyone.

Mostly, his comments stem from the fact that he doesn’t actually really _think _about their sex life in any detail. His assumptions mostly come from how little Jon and Sansa touch each other in any type of hot and heavy way, which is so at odds with the way the rest of their friendship group act that Theon really does just assume that they’re not the explorative type, that they just like soft and wholesome sex.

But you know what they say about assumptions.

-

Theon’s comments don’t necessarily _bother _Sansa, per se. Neither she nor Jon are very performative people, preferring to keep their private life private, even from their friends. Maybe if they’ve had one too many at the bar she’ll sit in his lap and they’ll steal a couple kisses from each other, but that’s usually the extent of it.

It’s significantly less that the other couples in their group; Ayra and Gendry will dry hump each other in full sight until someone inevitably tells them to get the fuck out; there’s always _at least _one point of every night when Robb has his hand up Marg’s shirt and/or skirt; and Theon will always manage to find someone to have a quick fuck with in the bathroom, or someone he can show off to everyone before announcing with a sly smirk that he’s leaving.

Sansa’s spent a great deal of her life making a very distinct line between her public persona and her at home one, and a lot of the time she has trouble figuring out whether or not being at the pub with friends falls in the public or at home persona.

So the fact that Theon thinks that she and Jon have extremely boring and vanilla sex doesn’t inherently bother her. She’s okay with him thinking that. She doesn’t need to correct him.

It’s just that she’s a_ very _competitive person, okay, and Theon’s gone and pissed her off _royally. _

She and Jon had been sitting on the couch, the TV turned up loud because Theon had been . . . entertaining.

He’s a fairly accommodating sex addict, to be sure, given that he’d texted a heads up to them both almost 45 minutes in advance to let them know he was bringing someone home – and Sansa doesn’t _actually _live here, so the fact that she’d even been included in the text was a little heartwarming.

_idc if u stay, maybs u two will learn a little something lmao, _he’d texted.

Jon had rolled his eyes, as had Sansa, but it had still made her grind her teeth a little.

“You want to go back to yours, then?” Jon had asked, pausing the movie they’d only just started.

Sansa shook her head. “Nah, Gendry’s there.”

Jon had winced, and Sansa understood – because as bad as Theon could be, he was nowhere _near _as bad as Arya and Gendry. Those two could fuck on the kitchen counter and then yell at Jon or Sansa walking in as if it was _their _fault.

No, no, Sansa and Jon had decided to suck it up, and when Theon had come blustering in with his partner for the night he’d not even come up for air for long enough to greet them; which suited Sansa just fine.

Sansa and Jon and decided to put on Brooklyn 99 after their movie finished and Theon still hadn’t come to show his partner out, because Theon liked to be _loud, _and he liked to encourage his partner to be loud, and he had a bad habit of banging his headboard against the wall he shared with Jon’s just a little too fervently, and so they’d decided to stay out in the lounge as long as possible.

And then. _Then _it had happened.

Sansa had her head resting on Jon’s shoulder when the door down the hall had swung open, and Theon was saying, “Seriously, Jenny, those were some moves – do you do yoga?”

Sansa had rolled her eyes at the classic line, but then the mysterious woman, Jenny (well, _maybe_ Jenny, because Theon, for all his positives, was terrible with names), had said, “Yeah, I noticed your hamstrings were a bit tight, you should give it a try sometime,” and Theon had rather thoughtfully responded with, “I’ve actually been thinking that I should, any recs for a good place to go?” and Sansa had felt like her every assumption about Theon as a man was wrong.

Theon had grinned at Jon and Sansa as he and Jenny (?) had passed by, and said, “Hey, Jen, these are the two I was talking about.”

Sansa had been trying to ignore them, give them some privacy, but she turned around at the introduction.

“Hey, Jenny, was it? I’m Sansa, this is Jon.”

Jenny had stuck her hand out, and Sansa and Jon had shaken it, one after the other, friendly enough but a little weary with the entire situation.

“I’m sorry if we were a little loud,” Jenny said, though she hadn’t looked particularly apologetic. “Theon said you wouldn’t mind, but, I tried to be a bit quieter, you know, considering.”

Sansa had parted her mouth in confusion, then said, “Uh, considering what?”

“Oh, well, you know,” Jenny said, waving her hand around, finally looking a little awkward. “Considering your religion and stuff.”

“Religion?” Sansa questioned, feeling an almighty need to glare at Theon starting to come on.

“Yeah, Theon said you guys were _super _religious and that you couldn’t have sex because of it, so, you know, I didn’t want to be too loud and like, offend god or something.”

Sansa ground her teeth, and stops repressing her glare to give Theon an absolutely _withering _one.

“Is that right?” Sansa forced out.

Jenny had sensed that she’d the wrong thing, because she’d nodded awkwardly, then said, “Okay, well, it was nice to meet you both. Good luck with the whole sex thing.”

“Oh my god,” Sansa had muttered as Jenny and Theon had turned away. “I’m going to fucking kill him. How _mortifying_!”

Jon hummed in agreement, glaring at Theon himself, but he’d turned to Sansa with a soothing palm on her thigh and said, “Well, it could have been more mortifying.”

“How so?” Sansa demanded.

“They could have seen what arrived in the mail today.”

“Oh, sweet, the new rope is here?”

Jon leant forward to kiss her, gripping her jaw as he whispered over her mouth, “I’m going to tie your hands to my headboard and your legs to the bedposts, and make you come so hard you won’t be able to walk.”

Sansa shuddered as his thumb pressed into the juncture of her throat, and then Theon had returned, flopping on the couch beside them to say, “Look, sorry about the whole _religion _thing, but how else was I going to explain that you two wouldn’t get in to a fucking contest with us?”

Sansa had glared and crossed her arms, while Jon had turned to Theon and said, “What the fuck is a fucking contest?”

Theon shrugged, folding his hands behind his head and baring his shirtless chest and unbuttoned pants.

“Oh, you know, who can hit their headboard against the wall the loudest, who can make their girl scream more – that sort of thing.”

“You just make shit up, did you know that?” Jon had said, then reached over to turn the TV off. He’d taken Sansa by the hand and dragged her to his room, Theon shouting to them that he’d been watching that.

And later, when Sansa is laying on Jon’s chest, unable to move after he’d done as promised and set her on her elbows and knees, hands and ankles tied so tightly to the four corners of the bed she couldn’t move while he pressed his hand into the back of her neck and forced her face into the pillow where she’d muffled her screams, and he’d used a vibrating dildo to massage her g-spot while he fucked her so hard in the arse that she’d squirted – well, that’s when Sansa decides that someone needs to teach Theon a lesson on making assumptions.

-

When Sansa commits to a course of action, she fucking _commits. _In the wise words of TV icon Ron Swanson: _Never half-ass two things, whole ass one thing. _Sansa lives by those words, and she’s not come to regret that yet.

She looks at herself once more in the mirror, pushing her boobs up into place one last time, and with one hand she texts Jon to tell him that she’s leaving now and with the other she shoves her lipstick into her purse and then grabs her keys, shouting her goodbye to Arya as she closes the door behind her.

Sansa pulls up outside of Jon’s apartment building and parks out the front. Robb, Theon and Jon had shared the apartment all through university and a little beyond, and with the three of them they’d been able to afford to rent something in a nice enough building in a nice enough suburb. When Robb had moved out to live with Marg, Jon and Theon had decided to stay in the apartment, their jobs allowing them to cover the part of the rent Robb had been, and they’d turned Robb’s room into a shared office.

The setup works well enough for Sansa; she spends a significant amount of her time here with Jon, and it would likely be a bit more awkward coming around at 2.a.m when Jon texts her dirty words and gets her hot and bothered enough to get in her car so he can make her come enough times that she falls asleep if Robb still lived there.

Sansa pulls down the visor and checks in the mirror to make sure her lipstick hasn’t smudged, then steps out into the evening air. She walks quickly through the carpark and into the building, aware of the type of attention she draws in this getup – even if it’s a safe part of town – and schools her features.

Outside of the bedroom, Jon and Sansa’s relationship is built upon the equality of their opinions, and neither one of them are ever in charge or control of the other. _In _bed, however, their natural tendency is for Jon to take charge, which suits them both perfectly fine.

They both love Sansa being in control, but it doesn’t come as naturally, not to Sansa, at least, and so she usually finds she has to get herself into a specific headspace to pull it off spectacularly.

Sansa sets her legs slightly apart when she reaches their door, cocking one hip slightly, letting the front of her coat fall open. She reaches up to knock, then settles her hand against her hipbone, keeping her face in a firm line.

It’s not Jon who answers the door, however, but Theon.

She hadn’t planned to let him see her like this just yet, but she can roll with it.

Sansa lets her posture relax as Theon’s mouth drops open.

“Oh, hey Theon,” Sansa says, smiling slightly. “Jon said you were out this evening.”

He’d, of course, said no such thing.

“Holy _shit, _Sansa!” Theon gasps dramatically. “What are you wearing?”

She brushes past him, looking down out at her outfit as she goes. The fur coat is what makes it, huge and down to her mid-thigh as it is, but her skin tight red dress underneath is eye-turning on it’s own. With her black smoked eye and red lip, her too-high stilettos, and her usually curled hair dead straight down her back, she knows she’ll turn more than her fair share of eyes tonight.

The only eye she cares about turning is Theon’s, however.

Well, and Jon’s of course, but he’s seen this outfit before, on night’s such as these, and she already knows exactly what it does to him. She’s come here to prove a Point**™ **to Theon, however.

She shrugs. “Nothing special. Where’s Jon?”

Theon doesn’t respond; Sansa turns around to see him slumped against the open door, staring at her with his mouth open. She frowns at him, as if she doesn’t understand his reaction.

“Theon?” she prompts.

“Um, what?” he struggles out.

“Close the door,” she says, rolling her eyes. He does so immediately; Sansa has to stifle a giggle. Jon always does _exactly _what she says when she wears this, too. “Where’s Jon?”

“He’s just finishing getting ready,” he replies, struggling to stop ogling. “Seriously Sansa, you can’t wear that _out._”

She smiles, with that little tilt of her brows so that Theon _knows _she’s being condescending. “Okay, Theon.”

“Oh, _fuck_.”

Sansa grins at Jon’s curse and turns on the spot, biting her lip a little as she looks over to Jon. “Hey, baby,” she murmurs demurely, getting back in to character.

Jon stands in place, wide eyed in the doorway and leaning against the frame, paused halfway through putting his shoe on.

“Aren’t you gonna come give me a kiss?” she asks lowly, tilting her neck and running a manicured finger down her jaw.

“What the _fuck_?” she hears Theon murmur from near the door, but she ignores him.

Jon eagerly slips his shoe on all the way and strides over to her, his hands immediately dipping underneath her coat to press against her waist. He leans down to attempt to capture her lips with his.

She turns her cheek so he can only plant a kiss against the high arc of her cheekbone.

“Ah, ah,” she says, reaching up to grip his jaw with her fingers, “don’t smudge my lipstick.”

He groans and closes his eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he hums, fingers tangling with hers.

“_What the fuck?” _Theon repeats. Still, Sansa ignores him.

“I brought something for you,” Sansa tells Jon instead.

His eyes snap open, staring up at her intensely. In these heels, she’s taller than him. It’s never bothered either of them, but when she’s in charge they both _like _it.

“Something else?” he asks enthusiastically, rolling on his heels.

Sansa licks her lips and smirks, then pulls open one side of her coat to pull out the riding crop she’d brought from her place.

Jon’s eyes go wide, then flutter closed in anticipation. She presses it into his hand, making sure Theon see’s it. She doesn’t turn to see his expression, but she hears him gulp.

“Be a good boy and take that to your room,” Sansa says, dancing her fingers up Jon’s arm.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jon repeats, then presses a sweet kiss to her cheek. Sansa can’t help the warmth that spreads through her face as how gentle he is; this is their little hello, the hello outside of character, the _my god I’ve missed you so much, I love seeing you _hello.

“Okay, _seriously,” _Theon says, louder this time, as Jon walks away. “What the fuck is going on?”

Sansa keeps her eye on Jon’s arse as he walks away – and when Jon is stood slightly behind the hallway frame and is out of Theon’s sight, he glances over his shoulder at Sansa and winks at her, making her stifle a laugh – and then turns to Theon.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sansa answers.

“UM,” Theon screeches, loudly, and in an unusually high pitched voice continues, “what do you mean you don’t know! What the fuck is this outfit! What the fuck was that voice! What the _fuck _is that riding crop! You – explain yourself, young lady!”

“Theon,” Sansa says, sternly, and he shuts his mouth immediately. “You aren’t part of this, and don’t think that just because your practically another brother that means you get to either a) know the answer to any of those questions or b) talk to me like we’re part of a misogynist fifties movie.”

Theon sighs, and pouts as he says, “You know I’m working on my internalized misogyny, but that shit’s hard to break through.”

Sansa smiles sympathetically, the kind of smile she gives to baby animal that’s a little stupid. “I know, sweetheart. Come, sit, let me list for you all the things that you said wrong.”

Theon looks like he doesn’t even try to protest – which, frankly, Sansa finds hilarious, because she’s got Theon right where she wants him without him even knowing – and comes to sit before Sansa, while she puts her minor in gender studies to good use.

-

Honestly, Sansa doesn’t mean to go for the same trick again. Truly, she’s way more creative than that, and she’ll fight anybody who says she isn’t.

Except then her schoolgirl costume arrives in the mail and Sansa is so excited to use it that she doesn’t even ask Jon whether Theon is home, she just dons the outfit and wraps a coat around her body and then she’s in her car and on the way over.

She looks both ways in the hallway before she pulls her coat off, and then she knocks rapidly on the door.

When Theon answers Sansa’s eyes widen in alarm, and she quickly pulls her coat up over her body, because the dress had been one thing but her tummy is bare and so is basically the entirety of her legs and _jesus _her tits are practically out! This outfit is designed with the specific reason to turn someone on, and that someone is _not _Theon.

“Sansa!” Theon squeaks, eyes immediately flying closed and he clutches tightly at the pizza slice he’d answered the door holding. “Uhh, um, I know better than to ask what you’re wearing, I listened to you what you said the other week, I swear – but, counterpoint, what the fuck are you wearing?!”

Sansa can’t help it. She starts to laugh. His voice is so high pitched, and he looks so concerned that she just has to. Perhaps her need to prove Theon wrong has made her more careless than usual, but, _honestly _she hadn’t meant for him to see her in this particular getup, especially not before Jon see’s it.

“Theon,” Sansa says, still laughing, and claps a hand on his shoulder. His eyes open, like he expects this not to be happening, but then he catches sight of her tits and squeaks again and recloses his eyes. “We’ll just pretend this never happened, huh?”

“I think that’s for the best,” he agrees.

“I’m just gonna go to Jon’s room,” Sansa says, letting her hand drop by her side, still holding the coat up over her chest. She passes by him, pulling the coat on so she can cover her ass – god she really didn’t think this one through – but the she realizes that this is actually the perfect opportunity to tease Theon a bit more.

“Hey, Theon?”

He turns around to her, hand over his face but peeking through his fingers. When he sees she’s covered up again, he drops his hand.

“You might wanna go out for a few hours,” she says. “This outfit is new, and, uh, we’ve both been looking forward to it arriving.”

Theon splutters for a moment, and she smiles at him, but then his eyes narrow at her and he says, “What’s going on with you lately? You getting bored with Jon or something?”

Sansa’s brow furrows, her immediate response a snappish _you’re out of your mind _but then he continues on with, “What’s with all the weird outfits? You and Jon don’t really do that type of stuff,” and Sansa decides that she had the right idea trying to teach him a lesson, because he’s just so fucking _wrong. _

“Sometimes a girl just needs a rough fuck,” Sansa replies, eyes narrowed at him.

Theon gulps loudly, cheeks tingeing red, likely at the idea she’s just put in his head; and she’s like a sister to him, so he’s probably doubly embarrassed because of that.

“Besides,” Sansa continues, “just because you haven’t seen or heard it before doesn’t mean we just have the same type of sex over and over.”

Theon rolls his eyes, and Sansa can’t be sure why he immediately reverts to making fun of them, but he does. She’ll psychoanalyze it later.

“Uh, yeah, sure, okay. This outfit is probably for like, selling cookies or something. As _if _that shit turns Jon on. That man wouldn’t know sexual power relations if –“

“- if a girl walked in wearing a sexy school girl outfit?” Sansa interrupts.

Theon chuckles awkwardly, then attempts to explain it away. “As I said, pretty sure that’s just for selling cookies.”

Sansa scoffs. “Did you want to see my tits again, or are you going to say one more time I’m just using this to sell cookies?”

“Um.”

Sansa shakes her head and turns away, and in the sweetest voice she can muster when she’s this annoyed, she says, “Like I said hon, you might want to go out for the evening. Toodles!”

Sansa slams Jon’s door closed behind her a little louder than she’d anticipated, and Jon looks up from his bed, startled.

“Sansa!” Jon greets, smiling and shoving his computer off his lap. “Uh, I didn’t forget you were supposed to be coming around, right?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” she says, tossing her pigtail over her shoulder. She drops the coat, and Jon swears under his breath and leaps from the bed while she continues, “but Theon’s really pissed me off now.”

“God, this looks fantastic, way better than the picture,” Jon mutters, digging his fingers into her hips and pulling them against his. “_Fuck, _I want to bend you over –“

Sansa sighs, interrupting him, and Jon looks like she’s just stolen his favourite sweet from him. Or however that saying goes.

Sansa sighs again, a bit more dramatically this time, and pulls herself from his grip to flop down on his bed. Her skirt rides up, and Jon’s eyes are immediately drawn to the apex of her thighs, where her red panties have likely become visible. She crosses her legs and sighs again.

Jon hesitantly takes a seat beside her, hand hovering over her thigh. He thinks better of touching her, and instead leans back to look down at her.

“Alright, tell me everything,” Jon prompts.

Sansa sits up quickly, so fast Jon has to jump out of her way.

“Okay, you know how Theon always get’s on our back about how we have boring sex?”

Jon purses his lips and looks down her body and over the schoolgirl outfit. “Uh, right?”

“Well, I just – I want to prove him wrong! And then, just now, it’s like he – I’m in this outfit, and he still can’t admit we like to play around a bit?”

“Sansa,” Jon says slowly, cautiously, “I’m not sure I understand why you care what he thinks.”

Sansa sighs loudly again, flopping back onto the bed. “Well I don’t understand either!” she huffs. “But it’s really pissed me off! I mean god Jon, we do some kinky _shit _– like, remember that time with the –“

“I don’t know which time you’re about to reference, but I assure you I remember,” Jon interrupts. This time, when his hand lifts, it settles against her upper thigh. “Seriously Sansa, I’m losing my mind over here. You have to put that coat back on if you want me to keep any semblance of chill.”

Sansa hops up from the bed, Jon’s hand sliding from her leg, and goes to inspect herself in the mirror on the door to the wardrobe. She tilts her head as she takes the costume in; it’s both entirely ridiculous and amazingly sexy both at the same time.

“I told Theon to leave for a few hours,” Sansa says thoughtfully, twirling her pigtail around her fingers. “But even if he doesn’t . . . please, sir, I’ll do _anything _for a good grade.”

Sansa giggles immediately afterwards, pressing her hand to her mouth, feeling a little ridiculous.

“God, that felt like the start of a bad porno,” Sansa laughs, shaking her head. Jon smiles as well, though his is significantly tighter than hers. Huh. He liked that. “Maybe . . . please, Principle Snow, don’t call my parents. I’ll get in so much trouble if they find out I’ve been naughty.”

Jon stands, eyes serious as they lock with hers in the mirror. He settles himself behind her, hips grinding into her arse, and Sansa can feel his semi already. Jon pulls her hair from her neck, then lower his lips to the juncture between her throat and shoulder.

“Address me as sir, Miss Stark,” he murmurs against her skin, “and we can talk about alternative methods of punishment.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so glad you all enjoyed part 1! part 2 is personally my fave, so i hope ya'll enjoy this as well!

So. Look. Theon is like – well, he likes to think he’s smart. He’s kind of getting life together, he has a shitty 9-5 desk job, and he can cover his rent easily enough, and he has like _hobbies _that aren’t just drinking beer and jacking off, he goes to the gym and is part of a team sport, and sometimes he even puts his degree to good use. He’s checking all the ‘adult’ boxes (except, of course, the settling down with a partner one, but he’s not really fussed about that just yet).

It’s time like these, however, that remind him that while he’s got some shit sorted, he still hasn’t learnt the single lesson that would likely benefit him the most: to keep his mouth shut.

But he’s gotten pretty far in life without knowing how to stop talking, so, really, why would he bother to learn now?

But if he were to hypothetically list reasons as to why he should maybe learnt, he’d certainly list the past few weeks as a reason. He’s seen and heard things from Jon and Sansa that he never wanted to neither see nor hear.

Like, okay, that tight dress she’d worn that had made Jon pant like a dog and hang off her every word? Weird. Or when she’d worn that ridiculous skirt and blouse and he hadn’t heeded her words and had decided to stay in? He’s not sure he’s ever regretted one single decision so much in his _life. _God, he can’t even repeat what those two had said to each other that afternoon without blushing like some virginal schoolboy.

And then three days later when he and Jon had had their group around for drinks, Sansa and Jon had snuck off and Theon had followed after ten minutes because, well, because he’s an idiot, and the pair had emerged from Jon’s room, thoroughly mussed, and Sansa had raised a brow at him and asked if he’d come after them because he’d wanted to join them and Jon had said, “Now, now, Sansa, I’m not sure Theon could handle us,” and Theon had choked on his own spit.

Two weeks ago, he’d gone in to the bathroom between Sansa and Jon’s morning shower’s to take a piss, and actual _anal beads _had been sitting on the benchtop. Likely they hadn’t meant for him to barge in while they’d been switching getting ready, but it still felt a little purposeful.

Oh, and how could he forget last week when Jon had come home from the fucking hardware store with duct tape and when Theon had asked why he’d bought it Jon had shrugged and said Sansa had something in mind. Theon doesn’t want to _know _what that something had been, but suffice it to say that he’d not stuck around for the evening.

Oh and of course, of _course, _there was the time just two days ago that he’d been sitting beside the couple on the lounge when Sansa had asked Jon to buy a sex swing and he’d said, “Sounds expensive, I’ll just fuck you on the table instead,” and she’d responded with, “Eh, we did that yesterday, let’s compromise and get a hammock?”

Theon has a shit tonne more examples that he’s willing to tell everyone at the first opportunity, but he’s no kink shamer. No, no, instead he wants to thoroughly embarrass them like they’ve embarrassed him over the past couple weeks.

So that brings Theon to tonight.

His regret over his assumptions about Jon and Sansa has been building periodically, mostly because he views Sansa like a little sister and he now knows _way _too much about what she and Jon get up to.

But he’s nothing if not stubborn, and he’s the type to shoot himself in the foot over bullshit he doesn’t even particularly care about. He will _not _be proven wrong, goddamn it!

He’s spent a considerable amount of time planning tonight, which, well, he’ll fiercely deny if ever brought up, not in the least because it makes him look like some kind of pervert. Which he _isn’t, _he’s just . . . invested.

He’d invited their entire group around, even Samwell and Gilly, who Theon doesn’t know particularly well, but Sansa and Jon have embarrassed Theon enough over the past couple of weeks for him to be taking drastic measures; the more people he can invite to watch the couple crash and burn means the more gratification he will get from this.

He’d stocked up on beer and vodka and pizza, even buying it all himself because the more alcohol he can get into these assholes the better. Theon’s hoping that he’s going to get them to admit that they’re boring as fuck, but he’ll settle for watching them spiral into an embarrassed heap.

“Alright bitches, pizza is in the oven,” Theon says, a second bottle of beer in hand as he leaves the kitchen.

Everyone is crowded around the coffee table, where he’s laid out a regular deck of cards, a deck of Uno cards, and Cards Against Humanity. He’s on a mission tonight, and while he can’t get straight in to the humiliation he doesn’t want to play a game that might take _hours. _

They play a round of Uno first which is too boring for Arya and Marg – “it’s all just luck,” Marg says, “who the fuck wants to play a game where you don’t need _skill_?” - and so is quickly discarded for poker, though Gilly doesn’t understand the rules _at all_, and even though she insists she’s happy to just watch, Sansa tells everyone else firmly that they play a game that everyone can play or they don’t play at all, so _that_’s changed to Cards Against Humanity.

They play in duo’s, except for Theon because he’s purposefully not brought a date – and Sansa had, of course, made a sly comment earlier in the morning about how his hand would just have to keep him company tonight, so he’s feeling very vindictive as a result – but he doesn’t mind playing solo. He’s not here to win; well, _this _game at least.

Marg and Arya abandon their partners, to Robb and Gendry’s protests, to join up with each other, and they lay waste to every other team, as expected. Even with a bad hand they still manage to come up with the dirtiest, foulest combinations, and Theon enthusiastically announces them as the reigning champions. Jon and Sansa play it fairly safe, with a couple of doozies that anyone could have slapped together, but overall they’re not particularly exciting.

Pizza comes and goes, and by the time Theon is starting his fifth beer he reckons that everyone is tipsy enough to think that his suggestion is brilliant.

“Let’s play a drinking game!” he announces, slamming his beer down hard on the table.

Everyone groans.

“Really, Theon?” Arya grumbles. “The last time we did that Gendry passed out in a fucking park.”

“That’s really dangerous,” Sansa chimes in, frowning. “Everyone knows you don’t go into parks at night.”

“Pussy,” Theon grins, though she’s not wrong. He’s just being provocative.

Sansa raises a brow at him, then says, “Alright then Theon, what did you have in mind?”

Oh, she’s too competitive for her own good.

Theon pretends to think about it while everyone looks at him expectantly. He’d thought about perhaps starting with something more innocuous, but everyone has drunk enough that he doesn’t need to ply them anymore.

He stands up on the couch, all macho bravado, and says, “I’m going to beat everyone’s arse with Never Have I Ever: sex edition.”

“What are you, twelve?” Marg mutters, though she offers no more complaints.

“Really Theon, you couldn’t be more imaginative?” Arya asks, taking a swig of beer.

Sansa has a much too pleased smile on her face, but any suspicion Theon carries flies straight out the window when she says, “I think it’s a great idea. If we want to be more creative, though, why don’t we reverse it?”

Theon plops back down on the couch, just pleased that she’s going to play.

“Reverse it?” Gilly asks, her hand loose around the neck of her bottle as she leans into Sam.

Sansa nods. “More like . . . Never Have _You _Ever. Each team guesses something they think the other teams haven’t done. If the guess is correct, and the others haven’t done it, then the teams take a drink. But if they’re wrong, and the others _have _done it, then the guesser takes a drink. Sex edition, of course.”

If Theon were smart, he’d connect Jon’s warning, “_Sansa_,” with the sly look on her face, or perhaps he’d remember the riding crop, or the school girl outfit, but he isn’t smart and he doesn’t remember so he eagerly agrees with Sansa’s suggestion.

Everyone else agrees easily enough, especially now Sansa has made it interesting, so Theon hops up to get shot glasses and vodka from the kitchen.

Sansa joins him to help, and this is the part where he goes from vaguely regretting provoking her and Jon to flown blown _oh fuck what have I done. _

“You know,” Sansa starts conversationally, once they’re out of earshot of the rest of the group and she’s collecting shot glasses, “if you really wanted to know what Jon’s like in bed, you could have just asked.”

Theon splutters for a moment, because he can’t quite believe that Sansa has not only managed to so thoroughly grasp the point but also twist it completely to embarrass him.

But he’s nothing if not stubborn, so he gathers his wit and says, “I’m going to destroy you, Stark. I know _exactly _what Jon’s like in bed.”

Sansa laughs, an evil, calculating laugh. “I’ll let the game speak for itself, Greyjoy. But if you’re _so sure _we have vanilla sex . . .”

She laughs again, and then she disappears out and back into the living room. She joins in with everyone’s conversation, not mentioning to anyone what they’d discussed, and Theon takes a deep breath.

Okay. He can do this. He’s going to prove to everyone once and for all that he’s _right. _

Arya pours the shots, of course, filling them all the way.

“Okay, rules,” she says as she goes, “firstly, questions are asked and answered in teams. Sorry Theon, but you’re the one who didn’t bring a date. Secondly, you can only answer yes or no based on what you’ve done with your current partner. Theon, we’ve decided you can include anything you’ve done in the past three years, as long as our oldest couple, Robb and Marg, have been together. Thirdly, if you lie, I will cut your eyes out and eat them. And lastly, I can’t believe that any of you think you have kinkier sex than Gendry and I, but it’s your funeral. Let the games begin!”

Marg laughs and Robb grimaces; Samwell and Gilly don’t seem to be particularly phased by the nature of the conversation, so Theon decides that he quite likes them; Jon, however, is looking a bit worried, while Sansa has a little angelic smile on her face.

Jon leans down from his place on the lounge where Sansa is sitting against his knees to whisper something in her ear. She pats his knee and smiles up at him. He leans back into the lounge, still looking vaguely worried.

_Good. _

“Why don’t you start us off, Theon?” Robb says, finishing off his beer.

Theon claps his hands together and rubs them. “Alright. Never have you ever . . . fucked in a public bathroom.”

Everyone groans.

“Drink up, dickwad,” Arya says, rolling her eyes. “Everyone’s done that.”

Theon looks at Sansa and Jon.

“The museum,” Sansa confirms. “That pub on 43rd. Also the Rising Sun pub. Also in the bathroom at my office.”

“And at my office,” Jon adds.

“Oh, and that restaurant that time.”

“Last week, at the -.”

“Okay!” Theon interrupts, taking his shot, while the rest of the group look at Sansa and Jon with slightly wide eyes. “Got it.”

“_Damn,_” Arya says, “that’s more than us.”

“We get too worried we’ll be caught,” Gilly says, laughing a little. Sam turns to her, nudging her side. She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything more.

“Alright, Jon and Sans, your turn,” Marg says, her leg bouncing. “Everyone shut the fuck up or we’ll never get through a round.”

Theon nods in agreement.

Everyone turns to the unfairly beautiful couple. They turn to each other. Jon shrugs.

Sansa turns back to the group, her eyes scanning everyone, before she settles on Theon.

_Last chance, _her eyes seem to say.

_Never_, he replies.

Looking straight at him, she says, “Never have you ever been pegged.”

The group erupts into uproar, a mixture of laughter and disgusted outcry. The girls, of course, are the ones laughing, while Theon falls into the second category, along with Robb and Sam.

“But – that’s -,” Theon splutters.

“_Theon,” _Arya says sharply, “I swear to god if you’re about to say that pegging is gay I’m going to take you to your room and peg you myself, you internalized homophobic piece of shit.”

The group laughs, of course, though Gendry looks more than little put out.

Theon hadn’t been going to say that – well, he had, but he didn’t mean it. It’s more a knee jerk reaction, and Theon is definitely trying to work on the whole fragile masculinity thing, but sometimes he has some unfortunate initial thoughts.

Arya and Gendry don’t drink, but Marg and Robb do, and so do Sam and Gilly.

Marg slaps Robb against the chest. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me try that!” she snaps. “Now we’re gonna _lose._”

Arya and Sansa appraise each other.

“International Women’s Day?” Sansa asks.

Ary laughs loudly and nods, then leans over to high five Sansa.

“Next question!” Theon says, his voice a little too strangled.

Gilly doesn’t even consult Sam, just says, “Never have you ever been fisted.”

Everyone’s eyes widen at the normally docile Gilly’s words, and everyone silently takes a drink. Theon feels vaguely victorious at the fact that Jon and Sansa do too, but, like everyone, he’s a little shocked.

“Do we have to drink if we’ve never done it either?” Gilly asks, suddenly shy, and everyone laughs.

Theon can’t help but laugh, too, because she’s just so damn cute.

“No,” Sansa decides. “It isn’t about the asker. Robb and Marg, you’re next.”

These two actually take time to whisper in each others ear, quickly and quietly, though there’s one time where Marg rears back and says, “Well I know Sansa’s done _that, _be more creative!” to which Sansa laughs and everyone looks surprised and Robb looks entirely uncomfortable.

Eventually, Marg leans away, pushing against Robb’s face. “God, you’re no help. Okay, never have you ever filmed a sex tape.”

Arya’s face screws up and she says, “Who has time for that?” so she and Gendry take a drink.

Sam and Gilly do, too, though Theon isn’t surprised, and he himself takes one too, though it’s not for lack of trying.

“Sorry, Marg,” Sansa says gleefully, “take a drink babe.”

“_Really?” _Gendry asks, head cocked curiously. “You don’t seem the type.”

Sansa leans back against Jon’s legs and lifts a hand up to pat his knee. “We have three, in fact. They’re very good everyone, you should try it.”

“NEXT QUESTION!” Robb interrupts loudly, taking his shot.

Arya ponders for a moment, her blunt nails tapping the coffee table. Her eyes stray to Gendry, who blushes a little and mutters, “What about that, uh, thing we bought last week.”

She grins, then turns back to the room. “Never have you ever used a spreader bar.”

“Damn, that shit’s expensive!” Marg says, while Robb pouts and mutters _why can’t we get a spreader bar. _

Sam and Gilly drink – perhaps he really shouldn’t have included that pair, they’re definitely going to end up drinking more than anyone else – and so do Marg and Robb.

Jon and Sansa don’t.

Everyone turns to him. “Uh,” Theon mutters, “what’s a spreader bar?”

Robb guffaws loudly. “Didn’t you see Fifty Shades?”

“You did?” Theon challenges.

Robb shrugs. “It was shit and had bad BDSM etiquette, but it gives you some ideas.”

Sansa stands silently, and disappears out of the room. Everyone looks after her.

“_Sansa_,” Jon calls after her warningly, though there’s more than a hint of amusement.

Sansa reappears, a long bar in her hands.

“You keep that _here?” _Robb screeches. “God, I regret this game so much.”

Yeah. Theon knows the feel.

Sansa comes to stand in front of him. The bar she’s holding has cuffs on either end, leather and buckled. Sansa kneels in front of him, dropped to one knee.

Arya starts to laugh _way _too enthusiastically. “Fuck, I _love _this game!”

Theon gulps as Sansa attaches one manacle to his ankle, then grabs his other leg to attach the manacle to that.

“UM,” Theon says, a little too high-pitched. His legs aren’t spread too far apart, so he swallows loudly, and, trying to regain a bit of control, says, “This isn’t too bad.”

“Oh, Theon,” Arya sighs, like she’s disappointed in him as a man.

Sansa smirks, then stands up, directly in front of him.

Theon glances over to Jon, who looks wildly amused with the situation.

“You let her do this to you?” Theon asks.

Jon stifles a laugh. “Oh, no,” he says, “I do this to _her._”

Sansa clicks a button, and the bar expands outwards.

“Holy shit!” Theon yelps.

He looks up at Sansa, who stands over him, staring down with the most cocky expression on her face.

Theon will _not _be outdone, goddammit!

Sansa lets the bar drop from her hands, and Theon sits up with as much pride as he can muster with his legs forcefully spread so fucking wide. Gods, how can this even be comfortable? Theon treats his ladies with _respect, _and this leg spreader business is just too much in Theon’s humble opinion.

Well. That’s a fucking lie. He’d _love _to use this on a girl (honestly, he’s kinda turned on right when it’s being used on _him_) but he’ll never in a million years admit that because that would be like admitting that Sansa and Jon know more sex tricks than he does, and Theon gets around, alright. Those two vanilla shits _cannot _know more sex tricks than he does.

It’s his turn to ask the question again, and Theon takes that role very seriously. Sansa and Jon are a little more hardcore than he’d initially bargained for, but that’s okay. His pre-decided ideas are probably worthless now, but he’s spent enough time on Pornhub and Tumblr to be able to think on his feet.

“Never have you ever role played the daddy/baby girl kink.”

Arya, Gendry, Marg and Robb immediately down their shots, while Sansa raises an unimpressed brow.

“Drink up, Theon,” she says, almost like she’s bored.

Robb coughs on his shot, spluttering, “I DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW ALL THIS!”

Arya groans, heading banging against the table. “Okay, seriously, you two are weird.”

Theon pauses, mouth agape, ignoring everyone else’s (fair) commentary. Sansa stares back at him, unrelenting.

“There’s no _way _you’ve done that,” Theon decides.

“More than once,” Sansa confirms.

A smirk spreads across Jon’s face as he leans forward to twirl a chunk of Sansa’s hair around his fingers, then he tugs hard enough that her head falls back.

“Sansa likes that one, don’t you, baby girl?”

Theon doesn’t hear Sansa’s response – which he isn’t particularly disappointed about – because the room descends into chaos, with Robb at the centre of it as he shoots to his feet and shouts, “Snow, you’ve corrupted my sister!”

Sansa is laughing and Marg is asking Sansa for good BDSM websites to consult and Arya says thoughtfully, “Hey, Gendry, can we try that one time? I reckon I’d like you as daddy,” and Gendry coughs loudly and goes bright red but nods anyway, and Sam and Gilly look both like they’re having the time of their lives and like they regret ever meeting these people, and for some reason Robb is going on and on about how Jon is some kind of sex deviant who has corrupted Sansa’s purity – and Theon plans to sit Robb down later and have a _Robb, purity is a social construct and you need to let go of your constructed masculine role of head of the house and leave her be _(with a healthy dash of, _besides Sansa is _obviously _the deviant in that relationship_) – while Jon sits back and watches the destruction his comment has wrought with amusement.

Theon takes the opportunity to lean over to Jon – uncomfortable and difficult as that as with his legs spread – and says, “I made a mistake, didn’t I?”

Jon claps his hand on Theon’s shoulder. “Unfortunately you did, mate. Don’t worry, you’ve fallen in to the same trap so many before you have. But you’ve learnt the lesson about underestimating Sansa, I assume.”

“More like I learnt she’s a kinky bitch,” Theon mutters, casting his eyes over to her.

Jon throws his head back in a laugh, the type of laugh Theon rarely see’s from his reserved friend.

“Trust me,” Jon says, smiling widely, “you don’t even know the half of it.”

Theon decides that he’s just fine with that.


End file.
